You know you're addicted to Transformers when
by hummergrey
Summary: Humans work daily with Transformers, some even accepting Autobot guardians. What happens when they become friends or spend personal time together outside of actual combat? Near disaster and revealing cultural differences. Movie & G1 characters. NO SLASH
1. Chapter 1 Cleaning and visiting TF

Author's Notes: Another fun series based on mini rules or references made in the main fic _"If an Autobot Do Not Do the Following, part 1 and 2." _The rules in this chapter are in random order for fun. Rules 1 -54 will be in the following chapters. Moreover, you never know who will appear in a guest cameo or one shot. This is set in the ROTF universe with G1 characters mixed in. May include other universes as surprises. First up – human femmes versus alien mechs with good intentions.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_55. You worry more about the Autobots coming to visit than strangers, random burglaries or teenage arsonists in your area. Human troublemakers you can deal with, Transformers are a whole category of unexpected problems by themselves. _

"No Hoist, your engineering skills are not needed. It is a friendly visit. Guard the farm while the humans are gone and practice knowing the area via scout drills," Trailbreaker stated. His square black frame tilted up towards the taller mech. The other Autobots moved around them in the main hangar, talking among themselves in their native Cybertronian. Early morning, the NEST soldiers were completing their exercise routines, only two human technicians on the rolling platform. They ignored the Transformers, intent on their monitoring of human frequencies.

"But I have the free time. Ratchet is our chief surgeon and he is taking two days off to visit with Sam and Carly. I've completed all the routine check-ups and maintenance on the rest of our team, with no exceptions!" He stated, his blue optics bright. If Ratchet was their surgical medic, he was their family doctor, cheerful and willing to help. His chassis shape mirrored Trailbreaker with his green armor to contrast against the other's black armor.

"Maybe you can help Grapple design a solar collector?"

"We did that yesterday. Do the Lennox's need anything? I know they maintain their farmhouse. What about a new barn? Shed? Even a fence?" the taller mech practically begged, his British accent nearly hidden under the intensity of his vocal emotions.

"Not even a fence repair. I'm sorry old friend," he laid an encouraging hand on his armor plating.

"But I have time free, materials by the warehouses full and I know I could make the Lennox farm better," he tried one last time. Outside, Silverbolt's cargo hold ramp touched the runway, a silent signal for the Autobots to load. The large Transformer waited in his jet mode, ready to transport the mechs off base.

"Humans take time to approve plans and soon as the EPA and wetlands issue is settled we can begin construction on the new base at Mt St Hilary. Until then be patient."

"I have no patients either. Every mech and femme is fully functional and I am bored now. I cannot process waiting months to build. My designs protect the land, why must we wait for them to verify it?" Hoist grumbled, his entire chassis sagging in defeat.

"I promise to call if we need your expertise." Transforming, Trailbreaker's parts rotated and compacted into Toyota 4WD Hi-Lux camper truck. Engine revving, he rolled out into the sunlight and across the tarmac.

**LENNOX FARM**

**NINE HOURS LATER**

"Sarah is going to kill me! She just mopped and waxed it last week!" Major Will Lennox moaned, holding onto his hair tightly with one fist. He closed his eyes, his muddy boots and fatigues bearing traces of hay and dirt from the barn. "She left early with Annabelle when I remembered leaving my sunglasses the barn. Then I saw the hay blocked the spare door and one thing lead to another." He opened his eyes, dropping them to the tile floor and the mud slopped from the door across the entire kitchen to the refrigerator back to the door. His wristwatch beeped, reminding him of the time. "Slag it, I have to leave quick or I'll be late to the wedding and I still have to grab my tux from upstairs. Then finish packing for the airlines. Where's an assistant when you need one?"

"Can we assist?" a deep vocal sounded behind him. He turned, the two mechs kneeling outside the open kitchen door, their blue optics spinning normally.

"Can you clean this up?" the human pointed down.

"I believe so," Trailbreaker guessed, looking over at Hound. When he looked back, Will was gone. Systems recorded his thermal signature pounding up the stair before dashing into the master bedroom. Only his muddy boots remained on the tile in front of them.

"Thanks buddy," Hound grinned. "You just volunteered us for janitor duty."

"What's a janitor?"

"Search it on the human's internet later. For now, we have to help to keep his femme from finding out," Hound said.

"Humans are so violent. Offlining over earth remnants on the walking surface," Trailbreaker commented.

"Sarah wouldn't. His words exaggerate her level of anger. Another human custom, at least between spark mates," the green armored scout reassured.

"What do we use? The surface appears molecularly weak and easily damaged," he noted.

"Let's ask Wheeljack. He helps the humans on base."

**LENNOX FARM**

**TWO HOURS LATER**

"Not a bad job if I say so myself, cleaning that entire floor and enough left for us to use," Trailbreaker stated, optics intent on his leg armor. "I like this stuff. Removed that old blaster char mark right off." He vented deeply, the expelling air shaking the nearby flowerbed without damaging the plants. Both mechs sat on the ground outside, assorted cleaning gear all around their feet pads.

"Cleaned my shoulder rifle too. Why don't we use this more often?" Hound wondered when their comm frequency buzzed.

::Did it work?:: Wheeljack

::Perfectly. We mixed it exactly as you specified using ingredients found here on the property. Added a drop of energon and coolant to complete it then charged the whole mix with an energy burst:: Trailbreaker answered.

::You did remember to dilute it fully?:: Wheeljack

::Dilute it?:: Hound

::With water as in make it less concentrated. I gave you the amount for oh, cleaning the hull of a galactic size ship. Like the Ark. Otherwise, it evaporates at the molecular level more than cleans. I'm sure I mentioned that part. Maybe not. Oops! Have to go. Experiment bubbling over!:: Wheeljack

The mechs looked at each other in startlement then leaned down to peer in through the kitchen window. Bright blue optics narrowed.

"Uh Hound?"

"Yah Trailbreaker?"

"Was that big dark hole there before?'

"Nope."

"Okay, memory core is working then."

It took nearly a week of construction work to ready the new space. Hoist brought half the Autobots on the planet to assist and install the outer layers and reinforcements. Prowl and Optimus signed off on the plans using the term "practice construction" to hide their activities. Ironhide made sure plans for Annabelle's play area was included and Bumblebee added guest rooms should Sam, Carly and ten of their friends visit. Red Alert worried over humans discovering their presence and monitored the farm boundaries. Ratchet added a triage area and upped the ventilation requirements to guarantee clean air flowing for their human friends. The other Autobots enjoyed building and working by themselves instead of fighting or endless drills with human soldiers. Then the Lennox family returned from visiting their relatives. Ironhide drove them from the airport then left, muttering about checking sensors while they settled in from their trip.

Sarah noticed the kitchen floor immediately."What happened?" Her blue eyes swept its entire surface before she turned, her blond hair moving with the force of the spin. Both hands rested on her hips as she confronted the kneeling Transformers.

"We removed the mud and dirt ma'am," Trailbreaker vocalized first.

"Wanted to try a new cleaner," Hound added.

"The floor looks brand new! It is amazing," she smiled.

"Autobot ingenuity ma'am," Hound explained.

"And?" She confronted them again, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"And we gave it a wax to seal in the shine?" Hound quipped.

"There is always more with Transformers around," Sarah said. "You might as well tell me now. The more of your behavior I accept, the less I will have to forgive later."

"We added a safety basement."

"We have a storm cellar, over there," Sarah pointed towards the back yard area.

"Why go outside to reach safety? We added a safe area under the house you can reach quickly and without worrying about flying debris," the green armored scout said.

"We rarely have tornadoes here but under the house is more convenient," she acknowledged.

"Rarely can get you offlined. With our construction, the entire house can be destroyed and the area below remain intact. We even deepened it to allow Ironhide or any other assigned guardian to fit. The elevator holds all of you quite safely and is accessible to you by the spare closet. The ramp down is concealed under the hedge for us Autobots to use," Trailbreaker opened his palm, the partial hologram showing the detailing.

"Elevator? Ramp down ? How deep is this safety area?"

"Standard ma'am," Hound quipped.

"Standard being?"

:The distance concentrated cleaner eats through bedrock. We're lucky it did not collapse the whole farm once the lower layers spread outward. You tell her. You are faster and I need the head start if this goes badly:: Trailbreaker commented over their internal comm.

"Using human measurements? About twenty stories down and thirty thousand square feet spread over three levels. Ceilings are standard forty feet tall on each floor. Human areas on the sides built for your dimensions and privacy," the other mech explained. They waited, systems on alert when she nodded, smiling.

"If you will excuse me, I need to find Will."

"Everything okay honey?" Her husband asked, recognizing Sarah's determined stride as she crossed the living room. He waited on the bottom of the stairs, hearing Annabelle's squeal from above as she opened the welcome back presents left on her bed.

"Yes," Sarah gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before snuggling against him.

"You sure?" He stroked a comforting hand down her long hair, reading contentment in her expression.

"Uh huh. Feel like going furniture shopping? The natural wood store, garage sales and the local flea market?" She asked.

"Furniture? We use the spare bedroom now for storage more than guests do. Even the barn hayloft has stored pieces. I know you want to display your father's furniture but we have nowhere to put it."

"I don't think storage is a problem anymore."

_54. You find yourself explaining everyday human activities that suddenly seem odd when seen through alien optics. Included – yard work, gardening and cooking on the BBQ grill._

"That why you destroyed Sam's yard?" Ironhide smirked, his blue optics focusing on the taller mech before returning to watching Sideswipe trying to teach Skids and Mudflap sword drills behind them. Hound and Bumblebee watched from the sides, practicing their observation skills. The scouts occasionally winced or cheered as the fighters moved around.

"I did not destroy the entire yard," Optimus countered, his regal baritone exact and dignified. The main hangar roof echoed sounds of swords clashing followed by Cybertronian swearing. He refrained from turning around, knowing if anything serious happened, Ratchet would fix it, adding his own swearing. The medic's optics spun as he medically scanned then widened to normal, his yellow green chassis standing next to Ironhide's all black armor build. The three femmes, Moonracer, Elita and Silverblade waited for their sword lessons.

"Uh huh, you flattened Judy's flowers under Sam's window and stepped directly on their fountain," Ratchet reminded, lip plates forming a frown as Skids tumbled into Mudflap with the swords narrowly missing vital parts.

"Stepped on?" Elita echoed, her blue optics narrowing. "Even a sparkling scans before they step and your systems are military grade, battle ready, sophisticated beyond the levels of most regular troops and you stepped on it?"

"He did. His explanation to the boy was "my bad," Ratchet added.

"Bad? Optimus," she giggled, her pink and white armor shaking with her mirth.

"The flowers were unintentional. The use of 'my bad' was a human expression from their internet to show my understanding of their race. And I admit," he rubbed his blue helm antenna with his armored hand. "The fountain provided a suitable demonstration of our power to encourage the boy to hurry without making an overt threat."

"I'm sure humans lay awake at night, shaking with fear for their yard fountains from our Cybertronian forces," Ratchet said.

"Or their greenhouses. You and those power lines," Ironhide teased, poking the medic in his chest plates with a black armored finger.

"Not my fault they use primitive electrical current and string the connector lines like trip wires to catch mechs newly arrived to earth," Ratchet vented deeply, turning partly away from the weapons specialist as his faceplates heated. The giggling of the femmes only made his embarrassment worse.

"I replaced the fountain," Optimus reassured his spark mate.

"Good," she said.

::It made excellent cover when the Allspark kitchen devices attacked:: Bumblebee sent.

"We promised not to mention that event. Again, I replaced the fountain," Optimus said. "Next time I'll have Wheeljack design it to survive anything."

Hound grinned. "Let's hope there's not a next time Prime. But I have another thing to not mention to the Witwicky's. Do not quiz them over their use of dead or offlined items."

"Their food?" Ratchet guessed, rolling his optics. His dislike of human eating was well known.

"No, yard ornamentation. Two months ago Bumblebee and I were on a scout mission and stopped by to visit Sam," Hound recalled.

In the backyard of the Witwicky residence, Judy patted the wood bark around the edge of the petunias and straightened, arching her back as she remained kneeling. Her silver hair hid beneath a bandana, the drop of sweat absorbing into its edge. The itch feeling caused her to wipe at her forehead anyway, a satisfied sigh emitting from her lips at the flowerbed before her. "Ron! Ron! You unpack the next set of flowers yet?"

From the garage, the general sound of his voice echoed back. "Almost ready," he called.

"Ready when the next commercial break comes on. I swear, men are all alike," she mumbled, gloved hands expertly grabbing a small plastic square, upending it and freeing the flower start. "Sam's spare TV goes to the garage to amuse an alien in the night hours and Ron keeps it there, watching sports instead of yard work. I swept the porch, made the lemonade and sat it with glasses on the patio table. What does he do? Watch sports." Her gloved hands smoothed dirt around the newly planted flower, before grabbing a handful of bark to cover and smooth the surface.

The roar of powerful car engines had her looking up towards the side alley. A green army jeep and yellow Camaro drove themselves forward, the holographic drivers disappearing once they cleared the street. The wood privacy fence blocked any potential neighbors or unwanted lookers.

"Good morning ma'am. My name is Hound," the green army jeep greeted.

"Roll over any of those flowers and you'll be in the doghouse Hound," Judy warned through a small smile.

"Understood," he acknowledged. Bumblebee warbled a greeting before idling his engine, both staying on the gravel driveway.

"Sam will return in an hour. Cause no trouble and you can stay until then," she said, upending the last flower start. They watched her spread the bark before switching to internal comms.

::What is that?:: Hound

:: It is forest skin. The humans cut down the trees, stripping their outer layers to make bark:: Bumblebee

Hound searched the internet, pulling information but not truly understanding. "Miss Witwicky," he began.

"Mrs. Witwicky actually," she corrected, removing her gloves and slowly climbing to her feet, shaking her legs to restore the circulation. The bright green kneepads showed on her khaki work pants, both having splinters of wood bark.

"Is that not a waste of wood instead of making it into usable items? It must be replaced yearly and is a resource more suited to cleaning your atmosphere," Hound nosed ahead, tapping the waiting bark dust pile with the edge of his front bumper.

"It is useful," she wiped at more sweat.

"Covering the growing surface with dead tree covering is useful, hmm odd world indeed," he murmured.

"Bark dust looks nice around my flowers and parts of the yard not covered in grass," she countered. Bumblebee rolled back, recognizing the darkening color of her face meant anger.

"Out of curiosity, what do you put on graveyards?" Hound asked.

The neighbors barely blinked when a yellow Camaro and green army jeep sped away from the Witwicky house, a screaming Judy Witwicky threatening to bash their hoods in with her yard rake.

_TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS_

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please click _set story alert_ lower left to get notice of chapters as they are added. Also, please leave a review and let me know what you liked or did not. Until all are one._


	2. Chapter 2 Games and Medical Logs

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Please choose "story alert" in the lower left corner to get update notices as new chapters post. This is set in the ROTF universe with G1 characters mixed in. Soundwave here is the blue cassette deck and not the satellite grabbing silver form in ROTF.

And a glimpse into Ratchet's POV. I have been an EMT and volunteer firefighter for over seven years and understand the frustration of both seeing people in pain and unable to fix them and dealing with injuries that never should have happened. Like one of us use to say, "Stupidity should be a diagnosis. It is treatable with knowledge, training, and enough yelling to make them listen." Thanks to ladyofdarkstar for her suggestions and beta help with Ratchet.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_**You know you're addicted to Transformers when:**_

_**1. Someone says Transformers and you look for a mech or femme and not a power pole attachment. **_

The hidden Decepticon base remained at bare minimum power, the repair work on the main generator continuing. Inside the command center, the darkness failed to bother the mechs waiting by the transmission grid. Available power flowed to the communications, shielding and defensive systems, not the lights. The reflected light of their red optics lit the console panels, unnecessary as their enhanced layers of vision discerned every button and key pad. The image of the Decepticon second in command Cybertron forces gazing out at them from the center screen held their attention. Shockwave barely changed expression as he listened to the earth-stationed mechs explaining the situation.

"Understood. Delay in the next shipment of stolen energon but work will continue on the spacebridge. Inform Lord Megatron of its completion on schedule with the shipment adjustments I allowed," he said. His single red optic glowed against his purple plated armor.

"He allowed? Ain't he the big processing one," a seeker's voice from the back of the control room muttered.

Shockwave made a mental note of the implied insubordination and contempt in the comment. The large square chested blue mech added it as another notation to the ever growing list of possible blackmail and problems to deal with later. "Standby orders?"

Shockwave smiled, a rare expression for him. "Until Lord Megatron returns or the generator is fixed, play a game," he suggested as the transmission line closed. White static replaced his image before fading to black on the screen.

"What the pit is that suppose to mean?" Starscream screeched, slamming both armored fists into the console. "We need help and he suggests games? Who does he think he is? Heir of the dark bringer?"

"Lost bet, design codes reference," Soundwave intoned emotionlessly, interrupting the tirade.

"And that means?" Thundercracker asked, ignoring his trine leader's temper tantrum. As long as Starscream's null rays remained offline and the vocal screech within normal range, he was not worried about collateral damage.

"Program downloads," Soundwave answered, knowing his expression remained hidden behind his battle mask.

"That explains everything," Skywarp commented, the sarcasm dripping across his vocal tone again. The blue seeker leaned against the other console, his wings spread back as far as the wing joints allowed. He found the lightning strike on the outside generator funny. The lack of available space to move with so many mechs crowded in the room bothering him more than the darkness or the howling thunderstorm outside.

Wordlessly, Soundwave keyed a setting on the main control panel. A single grey control window appeared, linking them to the internet. Swift key strokes logged them into a major human game site. "Watch." Soundwave said, choosing a highly rated game.

"_Do you wish to download the Shockwave Player?"_

"The what?" Skywarp exclaimed, reading the pop up window that appeared on the screen.

"No way!" Rumble realized it first, playing the most games. "You two wrote this? And gave it to the humans?"

"High performance multimedia," Soundwave answered.

Starscream blinked, his red optics creating a flashing effect. "You created a program, for humans to allow them to play games?"

"Multiple players, animations, presentations and games and its free! There must be millions of copies out there by now," Rumble corrected, listing off a variety of game titles he knew and played before finishing. "And made by one of us. A great way to kill time when you're waiting."

The lights flickered, returning to full power before blacking out with cracking and breaking glass like sounds. "What were those game titles again?" Starscream's voice echoed in the darkness.

_**2. You use the terms like sparkling, youngling, mech, femme, aft or slag. **_

_**3. Someone says "wrench" and you duck, looking for a yellow green medic. **_

**DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND – NEST BASE**

**PRIME'S OFFICE**

Optimus read the request twice to confirm what he thought it said. The sides of the datapad flexed as his armored fingers tightened on it. His blazing blue optics rose over the edge to examine the mech standing in front of his desk. "You want to carry a prototype weapon, being made by Wheeljack as we speak, on your patrol route tonight?"

"Yes Prime," Hound answered crisply.

"What's wrong with your current weapon?" His regal baritone held a tone of puzzlement. He has seen Hound fighting with the others breems before their current meeting in his office. Beside him, Prowl stiffened, his advanced logic processors attempting to calculate the answer and relevant rules. The black and white mech gazed at the scout before the barest movement of his head to the side told Optimus he didn't know either.

"Nothing other than its melted beyond recognition," Hound became sheepish, rubbing at the back of his green armored helm with one hand. "The cleaner that we used on the Lennox farmhouse floor? We had some left over."

"That would explain the med bay report from Ratchet," Optimus fast processing made the connection from the incident the week before and the current request. Memory cores reviewed the report to confirm. "The substance is normally non corrosive to our armor."

"It is reactive to energy sources. As in firing my weapon this morning in the battle," Hound said.

"And the Decepticon seeker energy charge that hit Trailbreaker, Hoist and Grapple," Prowl's white armored fingers tapped across the report pad. "Shift schedules are rearranged to allow Trailbreaker recovery time as the new leg is attached. Hoist and Grapple stayed at the power plant to reinforce the wall supports. Once Ratchet cleared them for duty."

"Once he stopped throwing wrenches you mean," the green scout quipped.

**Official Med Bay Log Entry. **

05:10 AM Checked on patient recharging. Filed a repair request for power relay on medical berth one.

**Ratchet's Private journal**

Remind me to clean Wheeljack's favorite lab counter with that cleaner. He knows better than to give out any extra strong chemical on anything human made. Worse, our resident idiots use it on themselves. I am a medic not parts maker. On top of that, the retrieval team brings Trailbreaker in here and set him on the first medical berth available, not noticing how the edge is bubbling where his affected armor is over a square metal patch. They talk about the battle, about femmes and even the stormy weather yesterday. Meanwhile, slag one in berth installed power emergency power relay. Do they go out of their way to complicate my repairs?

**Official Med Bay Log Entry**

07:45 Retrieved and treated NEST soldier from under mechanical cleaner. Released into care of human medics with non-threatening injuries.

**Private Journal**

Dumb aft. Any human driving a street sweeper should be smarter than the vehicle he is using. It jams and with the engine and power running, he tugs free the palm branch, releasing the rollers with predictable results. By Primus, I have never seen a species so intent on self-destructive methods involving blatant stupidity. He was lucky it only pulled him between the bristles and into the holding tank. Scratches and minor sub dermal bruising. Glad I am not the medic required to change his shorts.

**Official Med Bay Log Entry**

11:52 Assisted in repairs to Bumblebee's right wrist gear and lower arm cabling. Reminded mech of standing medical protocols and rescue procedures.

**Private Journal **

Caught Bumblebee sneaking into med bay. Even without a broken vocalizer, he squeals like a surprised youngling when I clicked the lights on and he saw me. He knows better than to hide an injury like that. Throwing pumpkins into the river is not a holiday tradition any college dorm should observe. Retrieving the stranded car of the human too stupid to drive into water, especially when they could not see the depth of it, showed his concern for humans. But pulling that SUV out by extending his arm in partial transform while in his Camaro alt mode put him on creative ways to injure myself list this month. Third behind the twins. Worse, it took a breem to clear his smell from my med bay. Nine discarded fast food bags removed out of various parts of his transform. I must pin Sam down on his eating. He is in enough danger without choosing into it by eating fat, salts and empty calories.

**Official Med Bay Log Entry**

13:48 Reviewed armor paint use by fellow mechs.

**Private Journal **

I try to help my fellow mechs, easing their pains and sufferings and how do they repay me? With mischief and neuron aches. Especially those dratted twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. I discovered nine cans of bright armor paint missing out of my storage. Only two mechs here use that shade of red and blue, both not on my current repair list. Backtracked the locations the twins visited lately through the security cameras before cross-referencing the duty roster for the next few orns. They swear I have a programmed ability, to be a psychic as humans use the word, when I caught them and handed them over to Prowl. Nevertheless, I probably saved their afts, sparks and every part in between. Three things I know. Never mess with a femme's reproductive programming, her spark relays or her choice of paint colors. Though five femmes coming out of the wash racks painted the same way as Optimus and Ultra Magnus might have been interesting. Fan girls indeed.

**Official Med Bay Log Entry**.

15:30 Reminder to Optimus on his missed afternoon medical appointment sent.

16:20 Fourth reschedule of his physical this month, completed this time. No abnormalities or conditions found.

**Private Journal **

"Ratchet!" Optimus regal baritone deepened with his anger. The loud volume covered the entire med bay as the double doors slid apart, the mech nearly rocking them off their tracks as his red and blue armored chassis pushed past.

"You bellowed Prime?" Ratchet greeted, leaning far enough out of his side office for his helm and shoulders to clear the doorway.

"Explain this," the ancient leader pointed to the holographic image across his simulated glass window chest plates. Feetpads braced widely, hips forward and his wide armored shoulders pulled back, the Prime stood an image of power and controlled force.

"What does it look like?" the medic smirked, rising to feet pads, updating his medical datapads while walking into the main room. A single gesture of his arm indicated the waiting medical berth and scanners.

"I don't find it funny," he grumbled, sitting down on the berth.

"Nor is skipping routine physicals. I reminded you verbally, emailed you a 'You're late for your checkup again, Prime' message three times and highlighted the entry on your planner before it came to this," Ratchet reminded, his fingers transmorphing to repair tools.

"I was in a Joint Chiefs of Staff conference meeting when this flashed on," he gestured again at the two bright red holographic words still there.

"_Check engine"_

"Really Prime. Humans use it all the time to know when they need a tune-up," Ratchet chuckled.

_To be continued..._


End file.
